Summer Event! 💕
Matcha Green Tea Ice Cream,
Kitchen Sink option but make it a surprise!
Thank you for being so understanding & sweet, I get really anxious if you can't tell haha. You're a dear💕✨
Order up!! One matcha green tea cone with everything but the kitchen sink for Eri!!
Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!
☾ Pairings ➼ janitor!Levi Ackerman x fem!people-pleaser!Reader
☾ Content/Warnings ➼ modernAU, meet-cute(kinda?), familial trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff, accidental therapy (for me), corporate ick
☾ Author's Note ➼ Hi Eri!! Thank you so much for sending this request in. I was a little worried with the whole "make it a surprise" because I struggle with lack of structure BUT I'm so proud of how this came out. I couldn't stop writing, as you can see. This might be a little self-indulgent and I hope I got the emotions right since I struggle with them. I just want Levi to call me out on my shit, okay?? Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! love you k bye *smooches*
☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.6k (oops)
“Hi, you’re the new hire right? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Carol from a few rows down. Listen, I hate to do this to you since you’re so new but you’re the only one I can ask. Would you be able to do the data entry on the Sina job? I can’t stay past closing tonight due to my set plans and unfortunately it’s due tomorrow morning. Could you help me out? I’ll pay you back!”
The voice of your overly excited brunette coworker reverberates through your skull as you type away at your desk, the bright light of your monitor biting at your eyes just like the migraine you feel in the back of your head. You had a feeling that this is not the first time the people in the office have picked on the newcomers, and you bet it wouldn’t be the last. You chalk it up the fact that you were still in the office past seven in the evening doing someone else’s work because they dropped the stack of papers on your desk before you could say anything back, but you knew better. Damn your pathological people pleasing tendencies.
Your chair squeaks as you lean back in it, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose as you sigh heavily. It’s a handful of days into your first week and you’re already daydreaming about your next vacation. An office job was not your first go to, but as all struggling artists do, you needed this job to supplement your income until your art took off – if that ever happened.
Thoughts of how much longer you’d have to be here swirl through your mind when you’re interrupted by a loud thunk a few cubicles down. It startles you so much that you jump up as your eyes shoot open, hand over your heart in an attempt to calm it. You weren’t aware of anyone else in the building so you can’t help but think there might be a mass murderer just feet away from you. Steeling your resolve, you push yourself up from your chair and carefully peek over the half wall to see what had made that noise.
At first you don’t see anything as your eyes adjust from seeing nothing to the semi-lit office floor from the setting sun and dimmed overheads. Down the row, you see the back of a man in what you assume to be a gray janitor’s suit. An undercut peeks between short raven locks, neck lines sharp giving away to a clean cut. It doesn’t seem like he notices you’re there as his attention is focused on the waste basket in front of him.
You sit back down slowly, heaving a heavy sigh from relief that it was indeed not a mass murderer – well, that you know of. He didn’t seem threatening from far away at least. Your hands hover on the keyboard as you do your best to blink away the tired. Only a few more pages now, you reassure yourself.
An hour later, miraculously you find yourself down to the last page. The miscellaneous words and numbers swim off the page as you force yourself to focus. With the promise of a late night treat, you finally make it down to the last line. Just as you’re about to hit ‘enter’, something kicks the back of your chair causing you to yelp loudly and slam down on the keys harder than you meant.
“What are you still doing here?” A deep voice grumbles from behind you, making your ears twitch at the sudden volume difference. You twist around in your chair to see who the voice belongs to and you’re surprised to see it coming from the janitor you saw earlier. What’s even more surprising is how young he looks, and handsome to boot - despite the look he’s giving you. Stark gray-blue lidded eyes stare down at you as he scowls, eyebrows pinched together. He doesn’t look pleased.
“I-I’m sorry. I’m working on some…” Your voice falters when his expression turns into annoyance.
“You’re in my way.” He simply states as he leans against a vacuum you only now notice sitting under his arm. Was your focus so strong that you completely missed the sounds of him cleaning around you?
“Oh, uh. Yeah, let me get out of your way then.” You say timidly, pushing yourself out of the chair. You’re face to face with him at standing height, even in your work heels. This was a very intimidating man despite his short stature.
“I’m not going to clean with you breathing down my neck.” He grumbles, eyes narrowing at you like you asked him the most offensive question known to man. Your lips part as you struggle to find your words, but nothing comes out as you find yourself low-key panicking.
“I c-can just-”
“Just finish what you’re working on, I’ll just come back.” He rolls his eyes before walking away, leaving you and the vacuum illuminated by your computer screen. You ball your hands in fists to keep them from shaking.
Exhaling a weak breath, you sit back down and force yourself to focus on the last line of data instead of the glowering expression of your office’s janitor.
.
You slam your forehead into the vinyl coating of your desk, not hard enough to leave a bruise but enough to hear the echoes of contact through the whole floor. It’s nearing seven at night again and you’re still in office catching up on yet another coworker’s workload.
When they asked what plans you had tonight, you didn’t think that saying you were going home to watch TV would bite you in the ass. If you were completely honest, you had quietly hoped they might be asking if you wanted to go out for drinks with them. After all, they were the only ones that had really talked to you in the past few weeks but you’re starting to wonder if they were just trying to butter you up to get you to say yes to their requests.
Who were you kidding though, you would have said yes anyways because the word ‘no’ didn’t exist in your vocabulary. You wish you weren’t so aware of that fact because not only are you stressed out, you’re full of self loathing. A groan escapes your lips.
“Still doing other people’s work?” You hear a familiar voice grumble from behind.
After lifting your head up from the cool desk, you swivel around in your chair to see the janitor – this time in dark blue. A white handkerchief wraps around his face, covering his mouth and nose so that all you see are his tired eyes. A same-colored bandana adorns his head with some of his bangs falling into his eyes. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from asking what the point of the bandana was if it didn’t keep his hair out of his face.
It takes you a moment to find your voice, partly from not using it for so long but also because of the steady unfriendly feeling radiating off him. He raises an eyebrow at you as you stare up at him almost dumbfounded.
“I- who said I was doing other people’s work?” You finally make out, voice trembling.
“You’re new, right? The office goons do that to every newbie that comes in.” He folds his arms over his chest and you see that his sleeves are rolled up to show his toned forearms, muscles popping up from the position they’re in. Your eyes flicker back up to his, blinking slowly.
“I’m sure but they needed the help, so...”
“Because they would rather slack off than do any work. They’re taking advantage of you and you’re falling for it? You’re an adult, right?” There isn’t malice in his words but they still sting.
“Of course I am! I work here, don’t I?” Your eyes widen in emphasis, sweeping your hands around you.
“Tch, that doesn’t make you an adult. I’ve been here for years and I’ve seen my fair share of children.” His scowl reappears at those words. You’ve never met someone so grumpy.
You close your mouth at that, not sure what else to say. He clicks his tongue and flips a small towel over his shoulder. Turning on his heel, he sets off down the aisle without another word, the sounds of his heavy boots getting quieter.
You don’t get done until 10:30 that night. On your way out, you pass by the janitor who was currently on the inside of the board meeting glass walls, wiping them down with what you suppose is glass cleaner. His eyes meet yours as you walk by and you offer a small wave and smile even though his short words still sting. You think he’s going to ignore you but instead, he gives you a curt nod.
.
The janitor’s words swim through your mind the next time you’re asked to stay behind to help out. You spent the last couple of weeks doing your best practicing in the shower on setting boundaries with your coworkers but when the person who came to you next was your supervisor, how could you say no.
You were in the middle of packing your bag while lost in thought of your weekend plans when she came to you. You’re thinking you might stop by the evening market by the river before heading home with some food from the local vendors when a finger taps on your shoulder followed by your name coming out in a honey-laced voice.
“Hey, I just wanted to stop by and commend you on being such a team player in the last month. It’s something we find rare in someone as young as you and of course we’re grateful.” Your red-haired boss beams down at you while she talks. The feeling of ice pricks in your veins at what you know was coming next.
“I’m really sorry to come to you so last minute and on a Friday no less, but because of your wonderful work ethic, you’re the only one I can trust to complete The Warrior Project. It’s been extremely slow going and we need it done by Monday. Do you think you can stay behind and help us out?” She offers you an apologetic smile, eyes boring into yours with sincerity.
You wished you could have said no but the words died before they made it out of your mouth, instead agreeing meekly with a fake smile.
So now here you sit at your desk with the dying rays of light rising higher against the back walls as the sun sets, fingers flying across the keyboard. You suppose you’ll have to stop by the late night convenience store on the way home for some dinner; your face scrunches up at the thought of your very limited choices.
“If you type any harder, you’ll break it.” You don’t bother to turn around at the voice, knowing damn well who it was.
“I’m sure they’ll get me another one. They need me to finish this, after all.” You mutter the last part under your breath. The smell of something sweet and tangy hits your nose and on contact, your stomach rumbles loudly.
Swiveling in your chair, you’re met with the janitor who’s simultaneously holding a feather duster as well as a bag of what looks like Chinese take-out. Your eyes widen at the sight, bouncing back and forth between the objects in his hand.
“Are you here to eat or dust?” You ask, finally looking up to his face. There’s no expression on his pretty face. You still haven’t gotten over how stunning he was, with his pointed nose and pouty bottom lip. Today he has his janitor uniform half on, the sleeves of the suit tied around his waist so that it’s only pants. Tucked in is a black t-shirt that shows more of his muscular arms. He’s not ripped by any means but it’s very obvious he exercises on his time off.
“I’m here to dust. This is for you to eat.” He says dryly, shoving the bag in your direction. Once again, you find your words stolen as you stare at the brown paper bag that sits curled in his pale fingers. Your eyes shift back and forth between his face and the food.
“F-for me? Why?”
“Whenever I see you here late, you never eat. You need to take better care of yourself.”
“I eat when I get home.” You retort back softly. A late night meal for you consists of a single serving bag of chips and whatever looked edible at the convenience store – but you wouldn’t tell him that.
“Just eat it.” He pushes it forward to you again, the warm smells of food wafting past your nose. It smelled like heaven.
“I- no. I can’t take that, it’s yours!” You wave your hands in front of your chest in a dismissive manner. A dark eyebrow shoots up his face.
“So she can say no.” He reaches over you and places the paper bag down on your desk. Along with the smells of delicious food, the scent of clean laundry and musky pine tickles your nose. It’s a very pleasant combination, and one you were not expecting. “Eat it, throw it away, I don’t care.” He says casually before turning around and walking off. Your hand reaches out in an attempt to stop him, but he’s long gone.
Twisting your chair around, you eye the paper bag for a moment before finally caving. Your stomach is about to eat itself and he had paid for it, so you don’t want to waste it. Why he would care enough about you to order food is a mystery, though.
Upon opening the contents, you’re greeted with a small foil dish with a plastic covering holding what you believe is orange chicken. A little white box off to the side contains sticky rice and in the little plastic package next to it holds some spring rolls – all still steaming hot and smelling wonderful.
You spend the next half hour scarfing down your dinner while thinking about how you’d pay the janitor back. The flush that started creeping up your cheeks at the end of your encounter with him stays even when you go to bed late that night.
.
The week after, you intentionally slow down on your daily work so that you had a reason to stay late and finish it. But much to your dismay, you don’t see the janitor anywhere. You’d leave each night a little embarrassed at yourself for being so excited for someone you’ve talked to a handful of times, but to your benefit you had a reason for your madness.
Finally, you gather enough courage to peep your head over your half-wall and grab your coworker’s attention – whose attention was on a mobile game in his hands and not on the spreadsheets in front of his face.
“Ryan?” You whisper-shout down. Your brunette coworker’s eyes shoot up to yours, almost in a panic.
“What? Is the boss lady making her rounds?” He asks back. You sweep your eyes around the office floor and finally find your supervisor who was currently in a meeting with other board members.
“She’s busy, you’re fine. I actually had a question?” You didn’t realize how soft you were speaking until he stood up to meet you, towering a good foot above you with his ear down to you.
“What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you knew when the janitor might be back? I haven’t seen him in a few days.” You subconsciously start picking at your nails – a nervous habit.
Ryan stares at you as he processes your words before throwing his head back in bellowing laughter. You’re quick to shush him and duck your head down from the glares aimed your way at such a loud disturbance.
“Not so loud!!” You whisper-shout again.
“I’m sorry, I’m just curious why you want to know? He doesn’t like anyone, and no one likes him.” He shrugs his shoulders. You so badly want to tell him to shut up and that you like him, but instead you settle on trying to get him to answer your question.
“Well, what’s his schedule?” You narrow your eyes in hopes of getting the message across that you were serious.
“Well, that’s the thing, he’s always working. Sometimes even on the weekends. From what I heard, his cleaning routes are the same every week. He doesn’t get to our floor until late in the week. He has a thing for cleaning, so I heard, and that’s why there’s only one janitor contracted. He’s so weird.” Ryan rolls his eyes as he rests his chin against the top of the wall.
“What’s his name?”
“Why do you care so much about the janitor?” It’s Ryan’s turn to narrow his eyes to you. You’re asking too many questions and he’s getting far too nosy about your business. It’s best to retreat for now.
“Uh, it’s nothing. Thank you.” You squeak before plopping yourself down at your chair and pretending to click around on your word documents until you no longer feel the pierce of your coworker’s stare.
So he’s always here, you think. You’re just missing him on your way down. You bite back a smile as you glance down to the clock at the bottom corner of your screen. The time reads 4:37pm and it’s a Thursday which meant that he would be around your floor this evening. Perfect. Your eyes sweep over to your bag in your excitement.
In the time it takes for you to wait for the gray-blue eyed janitor, you’ve finished half of the next day’s work. A part of you starts to wonder if he isn’t coming tonight, that it may be tomorrow instead, and weirdly you find yourself hoping one of your coworkers would ask you to help them out again so that you had a reason to stay.
“That’s so stupid.” You say out loud as you stir sugar into the black tea you had spent the last 5 minutes steeping. You’re standing in the office break room, lost in thought.
“I’m sure the mug doesn’t feel that way.” That voice makes your heart flutter, and you bite back the smile that threatens to curve into your face. Instead, you pinch your lips together and turn around.
The janitor is there alright, uniform zipped up tight as he holds a spray bottle and a rag. He’s leaning against the doorframe of the break room, arms folded across his chest. His black hair falls into his face, almost kissing the corners of his heavy-lidded eyes as they watch you intently.
“Ah, there you are!” You exclaim, pointing your spoon at him.
“Here I am.”
“I have something to give you as payback for dinner last week.” You muse, grinning at him. His eyes widened briefly before going back to normal.
“And why would you do that?”
“Because I’m grateful for it, dummy.” Carefully, you place your spoon next to your mug and walk towards him until you’re face to face. It takes him a moment to realize you were waiting for him to move, and carefully he backs away so that you have room to escape.
“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You order before dashing off to your cubicle.
When you come back with the gift in hand, you see that the janitor hadn’t moved an inch. His intimidating eyes follow you as you stop in front of him, slightly breathless from speed walking back. An eyebrow raises at you as he waits for you to catch your breath.
“I-ah. Okay. So. I made these for you. I ended up having to make a fresh batch because I didn’t see you for a bit and I didn’t want to feed you stale cookies so. Anyways, here. Thank you for feeding me last week.” You beam up at him as you hold your hands out to show him your gift.
It’s a small plastic bag wrapped with a pastel bow. The contents of the bag include bite sized cookies that you spent all last night remaking in hopes you would see him again. They’re pale yellow in color, dusted with a light coat of cane sugar. His eyes widen again at your gesture, this time staying big as they stare at the bag in your hand like its gold.
“You… made these for me?” His voice is low.
“I did! I don’t know if you like sweets but these are my mother’s recipe and her cookies were never that sweet. Pretty much the sweetness comes from the sugar on top. The rest are just buttery goodness.” You gush as you stare off in thought, the happy memories of your mom making these cookies for you flooding your brain.
When your eyes fall back to the raven-haired man, you’re almost tempted to run away in embarrassment. His neutral expression stares back at you and you take a small step back.
“I’m sorry, this is probably weird. You don’t have to take them actually. In fact, I’ll just le-“
“No, you’re fine. I uh, I appreciate it.” He quickly reaches out and grabs the bag, the sound of crinkling plastic taking up space in the nearly empty mess room. You offer him a small smile, grateful that he accepted the gift. His eyes trail past you and onto the kitchen counter behind you. He purses his lips as he thinks but finally opens his mouth to speak.
“Pour that disgusting excuse for a tea out and follow me. Bring the mug.” He says tersely before turning on his heels and out the door. You blink hard a few times as your brain processes his words but quickly you find yourself dumping out the tea and chasing after him down the cubicle aisles.
Soon, you’re sitting on the ground with the janitor as he pours steaming amber liquid from the thermos he pulled out of his cleaning cart just mere moments ago. It splashes into the bottom of your mug and fills it quickly, then he hands it over to you as he starts speaking.
“So are you a workaholic or…” He gives you a side eye.
“I should be asking you that. I’ve been told you work practically every day, even on weekends.” You hold the mug by the handle as you stare down into the cup. “Is this…?”
“It’s tea and no I didn’t poison it.”
“What was wrong with the tea I had?”
“Stale tea leaves don’t make for a good cup of tea.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No, I’m not a workaholic. I like to clean, and I get paid for it. Plus, I’m left alone. Usually.” He grumbles the last part, but you don’t detect any hostility in his voice.
“Well, I’m not either. A-a workaholic, I mean.”
“No, I suppose not. Just a people pleaser then?” His statement makes you splutter on the tea you had just sipped on. Despite it going almost everywhere, the bitter taste of the dark leaves bite at your taste buds. It’s unsweetened and you can’t keep the slight look of distaste off your face. Luckily, it’s covered up by the glare you shoot his way.
You don’t say anything back at that, knowing any denial would have been a lie but you didn’t want to confirm it either. However, you can’t hold back the annoyance that simmers in your chest at such a presumptuous statement, from someone you hardly know, no less.
“Beats being disliked by everyone.” You mutter finally, setting your mug on the floor next to you. Your eyes drift to the floor-to-ceiling window you were both sitting in front of. The last dreg of golden sunlight warms your face as you stare out into the bustling city as they prepare for the evening.
“You say that like it should bother me.”
“Shouldn’t it though?”
“Why would it?”
“Don’t you want people to like you?” You whisper softly, dragging your gaze over to his face. There’s no readable expression on his face as he sips his tea out of the top of his thermos lid. He’s holding it in a way you’ve never seen before – long fingers gripping the metal from the top rim and tilting it back into his mouth.
“I don’t give a shit if they like me or not.” He says finally as he gives you a side eye.
You’re not sure if your surprise at his callous attitude is warranted or not. Your interactions with him have been few and far in between but that night he got you dinner, you thought maybe he was a little more caring than that.
“Why do you care if people like you anyway?” He leans back on a hand, his other cradling his cup.
“I just- well. I don’t know.” You say simply. You do know.
“I read this thing about people-pleasers. It said that they’re great manipulators. They bend and break just so that others tolerate and like them, pretending to be something they’re not. Are you trying to get something out of it?”
Your eyes snap to his, feeling the heat behind your stare at his insinuation. Where did he get off calling you a manipulator? A pretender? Despite the subtle rage dancing in your eyes, you give him a smile and push yourself off the ground, grabbing your mug on your way up.
“Thank you for the tea. I really must be going now.” You say politely, voice coming out higher than you meant.
“Tch.” Is all you get back.
With that, you turn on your heel and head back to the break room to pour your tea out and rinse the mug, leaving it out on the rack to dry. You’re quick to gather your things before practically running down the aisles to the elevator, down to the front door, and towards home. A lump in your throat stays even after your shower and still when you lie down for the night.
.
After your last encounter with the janitor, you find that you’re rushing home as soon as you can. You aren’t necessarily mad at him for telling you a hard truth, but the rumination of having someone being annoyed at you doesn’t go away.
Your evasive tactics work for a while. Your office was in between projects and jobs so no one had come to you for help for anything. But of course that didn’t stay that way for long and your luck would run out as it always had as the quarter was about to close. Your supervisor came to you early on a rainy Tuesday morning to tell you that some freak accident had happened to the last reports which made the data you spent days organizing completely disappear.
You don’t know what was more frustrating: the fact that your hard work from the last week had completely vanished or the fact that no one in the office offered to give a helping hand when you needed it the most.
Your supervisor apologized and said the entries needed to be done by the next morning so they could be submitted in time for the quarter review. With a forced smile and false-positive voice, you agreed and got started on it right away.
This was about 12 hours ago.
The only thing that brings you solace is the knowledge that the janitor was not due for your floor for a couple days so at least you could work on it without worrying about running into him. And thankfully for you since you were semi-prepared for being held back, you ordered pizza for dinner before the front doors locked for the evening.
For some reason, you find yourself sitting on the floor in the same spot you had shared bitter tea with the janitor. You’re lying on your back with your phone hovering as you scroll on it mindlessly, a more than half filled pizza box next to you with the lid propped open slightly. There’s a vacation photo that pops up from one of your acquaintances that makes your chest tighten from envy.
“You’re in my way, brat.” A voice from above rings out. It startles you so much that your fingers loosen on your phone, and it comes smacking into your face with a loud slap. Your eyes scrunch shut from the stinging pain radiating from your nose as you groan softly.
You sit up from your position, making sure to grab your phone before it falls on the ground, and turn to narrow your eyes at the perpetually scowling janitor. You hear a subtle pop in your back as you do.
“What are you doing here?” Your voice comes out more accusatory than you meant, and you end up clearing your throat before giving him a forced smile.
“I’m working. That’s more than I can say for you.”
“You’re not supposed to be on this floor today.”
“Says who?” An eyebrow quirks at your statement.
The words die on your tongue because even you knew that one person’s word was not enough to be reliable. You reach over to close the pizza box and gather your things to leave. He doesn’t say anything and only stares while you push yourself up onto your feet.
“I’ll just get out of your way, then.” You mumble, bending down to grab the pizza box in one hand and your empty cup in the other. As you brush past him, you can’t help but wonder if he’s still mad at you, though you can’t logically find a reason why he would be mad in the first place. And if he was, then what did you do? These thoughts are jarred as a vibration in your back pocket alerts you to a notification. Upon more buzzes and the start of your soft ringtone, you realize it’s a phone call.
Stepping over to the nearest desk, you set your stuff down and pull out your phone. On the screen is the caller ID for your mom, her faux-happy face staring straight at you as the lights around it pulse. You don’t fight the grimace that etches into your features. Hitting the green button, you regret it immediately.
“Hi mom!” You exclaim, forcing another smile on your lips.
“There you are! I really thought you had died on us.”
“Of course, I’m not dead. Just busy!” You state happily, turning around to face the windows again. A relieved sigh escapes when you notice the janitor is no longer standing where he was.
“You should call us more. You know I was talking to our neighbor about you recently! Remember Donna and her kids? Apparently her youngest just got engaged. And it got me thinking…” Your mother’s words trail off as your eyes glaze over. Your pulse is steadily picking up speed with every word, and you grip the edge of the desk tightly to keep yourself grounded.
“Anyways, both of your sisters are coming to visit with their little families. When are you planning to come by? It would be nice to have everyone home again. Maybe this time with a man on your arm?”
“Oh, I don’t know, mom. I just started here, so getting the time off will be a little hard to do right away. But I will ask my supervisor, and see? I want to see everyone too.” Your voice wavers a little as the muscles in your face start to hurt from your smile.
“Your grandmother is asking about you, you know. I had to come up with some excuse about why you’re so far away, and single no less.”
“I’m working on it. I’ll give her a call soon.” Tears prick in the corners of your eyes.
“Well, I’m sure you are, honey. Oh, your little sister is calling, I need to go. Please call us more!” And just like that, the line goes silent as she hangs up.
“I’ll call tomorrow, I guess.” You whisper down at the blank screen. Setting your phone down, you press the heels of your palms into your eyes to get rid of the wetness that threatens to overflow. You practically feel your heart beating right out of your chest as your mom’s words float around your head.
“I see where it comes from now.” The janitor’s deep voice comes from the right of you. When you pull your hands away to look at him, he’s holding out a steaming mug to you. Hesitantly, you take it. The color of the liquid is lighter in color and smells slightly floral. A mile’s difference from the last thing he shared with you.
“Where what comes from?” You mutter before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s hot but not unbearably so. The taste is gentle and has a touch of sweetness to it. It’s pleasant, and not something you were expecting.
“Your people-pleasing tendencies.” He leans against the half wall next to him as he eyes you.
“Please do enlighten me, as I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” You reply back in a monotone voice. You were tired in more ways than one. Slaving away at this project that you were only 80% done with. Staying late, lack of sleep, and now your mother calling. You were tired and you can’t mask anymore.
“Let me guess.” He raises his hand and taps a finger against his chin in thought. “Middle child. Your parents always apologized for what you lacked. Always felt like you had to put in extra effort to be seen and walking on eggshells so that when you are seen, no one pulls away. You’re starving for real, positive attention.” Again, none of his words come out malicious but they really sting. This man hardly knows you and yet he’s spreading your entire childhood out like it was nothing.
You’re tired.
“Yeah. Exactly that. And it’s infuriating. Not to drag on my sisters because they’re doing their best and they have the same parents I have but it’s like…” You take another sip of the honey liquid before continuing, feeling the heat of not only the tea but also anger burning in your chest. Your eyes drift back to the front window.
“I can’t stop myself from doing above and beyond on the off chance I might be liked and appreciated. I’m putting in all this hard work and still it doesn’t matter. I’m just so tired.”
The sun is all but gone and is replaced by the city lights that illuminate the indigo sky above. The janitor stays quiet through all of this as he takes in your words. You’ve never told anyone any of this before, and part of you feels liberated. The other part feels guilty for putting something so heavy on someone who probably doesn’t even care.
“So, what if it doesn’t matter? Why are you putting so many expectations on yourself? You’re just one person.” He stands up from the wall and walks around it so that he’s face to face with you. His arms are folded across his chest again as he eyes you warily before continuing.
“I spend everyday cleaning after you shits and no one sees that. And yet, what I do matters because otherwise this place would be a shithole. You do not have to bend over backwards so people can see your accomplishments, they still exist whether they see it or not. But, say they approve of your help, then what?”
“What do-” Your fingers grip tight on the handle of your mug.
“They say thank you for doing what they asked you to do, then what? Do you keep up with their demands?”
“If I have to.”
“And what do you gain from that outside of exhaustion?”
You want to lie so bad. You want to say that you get a lot of enjoyment from making others happy. That you gain happiness for making others smile because you did what they ask of you. But you realize that putting yourself out there for the sake of others is wearing you down. And you aren’t actually happy.
“I don’t.” Your voice cracks and when you blink next, your sight is blurry.
“That’s what I’m saying. You bend and you bend for these short bursts of attention but you don’t need it. The only thing that should matter to you is your wellbeing. The rest comes after.” His voice retains the same dryness as it had before, but there’s an unmistaken lilt of tenderness.
You look away from his gaze and wipe the corners of your eyes with the back of your hand as you take a shaky breath.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much about me?” You offer him a small smile to hopefully deter any ill will that statement could bring up.
“Tch, don’t get me wrong, you’re still annoying. But, I can’t stand watching people tear themselves down for the sake of others. You’re here to live for yourself, not for them.” His steely eyes roll to the ceiling before landing back on you.
“Right. Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” You smile at him, a genuine one that squeezes your eyes closed. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, even if your words are a little rough.” He huffs at that then nods curtly, tapping his foot on the ground.
“On that note, I need to-“
“Will you stay with me?” Your words come out faster than you can stop yourself. A sudden burst of warmth blooms into your face. “I-I mean, if you want. I just have this pizza left and-“
“Do you want me to stay?” He stares hard at you as he reads your reaction. You have a feeling he’s testing you.
Do you want that?
Yes, you do.
“Please stay?”
He considers you for a moment before relaxing, his arms falling to his sides.
“Okay.”
Once again, you find yourself on the floor with the janitor, knees tucked into your chest as you’re lost in thought. He sits a few feet away, slowly chewing on a just heated up piece of pizza while he stares out into the night. Your eyes never leave his face, watching the way his long eyelashes tickle his cheekbones and the way his hair falls in his face. You notice the dark circles that bruise the underside of his eyes.
“Do you ever take time off?” You ask softly.
“I never needed to.”
“You look really tired.”
“That’s just my face.” You laugh at that and he gives you a side eye. He wasn’t expecting that from you.
“Where would you go if you ever took time off?” You ask despite the fact he might ignore you as he didn’t seem the type to indulge such stupid questions, but he surprises you.
“Home.” He says without skipping a beat.
“Home? Really? Are you not home that often that you miss it more or something?”
“It’s quiet and all of my things are there. Where else would I go?” He stares at you with a perturbed expression. His dry voice adds to his comment and you find it very endearing. You think you see his lip twitch, but it might have been your imagination.
“What about you?”
Leaning back on your hands, you stretch your legs out with a soft groan and stare out the window. By this time, it’s well into 9pm and you still have work to do. But with the janitor staring at you, you find yourself pushing the thought of work away for now.
“Don’t laugh. But I really want to experience a day in that park off of Centennial. I heard it’s really nice in the afternoon because of the trees and little river that cuts through it. I would love to just sit out on a blanket and draw for a bit.” You say wistfully. You can already feel the heat of the sun against your skin.
“You’re an artist?”
“Yeah, struggling and starving as most are. But I draw when I can.”
He hums softly. “That sounds like a good day.” He says, wiping his hands on the towel that was tied to his utility belt around his waist.
You beam over to him at that. You again think to yourself of why people don’t like him. He was blunt and a little tactless, but he was caring and empathetic. Something you wouldn’t see from the outside. You liked him for just being himself with you.
Realization dawns on you at what his words meant earlier. Just being you was enough. You matter.
“Thank you.” You say simply, a toothy grin pointed his way.
.
A month passes and you find yourself steadily settling more into your job. You haven’t seen the janitor much since that one night. When you got home after that conversation, you made a promise you would only do things that you wanted to do for the sake of yourself and not others. The next time your coworker came to you for help, you were able to put your foot down and tell them no. Your voice and hands shook the whole time, but since then you haven’t been bothered. Unfortunately, you helped your supervisor when asked but you are proud of the progress that you made with your boundaries.
And now, here you are on a blanket in Centennial Park on a Thursday, lying on your stomach with your sketchbook propped open in front as you pop grapes into your mouth. There’s dark charcoal smudged along the side of your hands but you can’t find yourself caring as you finish a hooded eye with a flourish. It’s a nice day with a light breeze that helps keep you cool and soft music flows through your ears from your earphones, quiet enough so that you can be aware of your surroundings.
You’ve been at the park for so long that you’re almost done with your drawing and you’re thinking you should have brought a book to read when something kicks your foot. It makes you jump and your head twists behind you to see who or what it was. You assume it’s a child that kicked their ball too far as that happened earlier, but instead you scrunch your eyes to make sense of the figure in front of you.
Your eyes trail up to find it's a man dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt, with a pair of oversized headphones circling his neck and sunglasses covering his eyes. The shades are dark but you can only assume he’s staring down at you. In his hands are two hot to-go cups.
“Can I help you?” You ask up to the mystery man, not hiding the annoyance in your tone.
“So she does take a day off. It’s nice to see you away from the computer screen.” The voice is familiar and you find yourself scrambling up to your feet, staring at him hard. He’s the same height as you and you notice his lips are all too familiar. They’re the same ones belonging to the drawing you just finished.
“You’re the janitor! What are you doing here?” Your annoyance quickly changes into surprise.
“Took the day off and I’m meeting a friend.” He raises one of the cups which you assume must be his friend’s. “And you can just call me Levi, by the way.” He grumbles the last bit. You only now realize you never asked for his name in any of the interactions you’ve had with him. Your face flares in embarrassment.
“I- yeah. I’m sorry, that’s so rude of me to have never asked.” You tell him your name as well but he just nods.
“I know who you are, and it’s fine.” He shrugs, tone dry as ever.
“You know my name? But how?” You don’t remember telling him your name. Nor has he ever been around to hear it be said. You raise an eyebrow at him.
“You have a plaque on your desk.”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s fair.” You run a hand through your hair as you laugh at that. You don’t notice the way his eyes flicker from your sweet face to the sketch behind you on the ground. He huffs softly at that.
“Well, I can’t keep them waiting so. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmurs before turning on his heel in the opposite direction.
“Wait, Levi!” You yell, taking a few steps towards him. His head tilts back in your direction so that you see his blue-gray eyes side-eying you from behind his sunglasses.
“What?”
“Would you like to get some tea with me sometime?” You ask quickly. Your voice wavers slightly with anxiety as you shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“Are you sure you don’t have other people’s work to complete first?” You laugh at that.
“No. I don’t think that will be a problem.” The sides of his mouth twitches.
“Then sure. Only if you bring your mom’s cookies again.” He raises his cup at you before turning his back to you and walking down the hill.
You sit back down with a grin, staring down at your finished sketch of Levi leaning against the doorframe of the break room.
Doing things for yourself has never felt so good.
I'm adding my taglist to this bc I'm actually quite proud of this one?
-> taglist: @averysmolbear @humanitys-strongest-bamf @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @romantichomicide95 @sckerman @secretmoneybearvoid @apolloshaiku @sujiroses @jadam724 @kamyru @highgoon69 @missyasma @nube55 @svftackerman
The link to my taglist is in my pinned post on my blog!!